Tag: Creative writing

Can You Feel That?

 

Can you feel that?
The stabbing feeling in your chest?
The piecing pain as your heart beats against your ribs,
Like a desperate prisoner banging on the bar of his cell?
Or the lump as hard as a rock lodged in your throat?
Restricting airflow,
The choking sensation as is the stings getting tighter?
The inability to expel any sound?
Can you feel the knot that twists your stomach?
The contortion?
How about the throbbing headache?
The skull shattering combustion of your brain,
So consuming.
Can you feel it?
The cold sweat dripping down your back,
Glueing your clothes to your skin?
Suffocating your body with each movement?
How about the turbulent tremor?
The aggressive shaking,
The ache of bruising muscles?
Did you feel that?

Can you feel the agony you put me through?
It’s about time you did.

 

 

 

https://creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/

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Over It, Over Us, Over You.

This whole ‘Lets remain friends’ thing was only to humor you. I knew it was never going to work. Besides the history, friends come and go with the seasons and as you know, I was never very good as holding on to the special ones. Sure, I wanted to keep you around. I wanted to hear the jokes again, the laughter. Maybe I wanted to see that cheesy grin reflecting in the mirror as you creep up behind me to give me a hug while I brushed my teeth one last time… Oh wait, you never once did that.
Ok then, perhaps I wanted to keep that sense of familiarity. Meeting people, getting to know them, its such hard work and I’m not the kind of person to just put myself out there on a platter, letting any ol’ random who takes an interest, have a bite. Finding someone, a person, its hard for me. And you’re so close by… But that’s selfish and while the future may set off the atomic bomb in my stomach, triggering the hypotension and perspiration all while resulting in an overload of anxiety, there is this small hope, almost excitement that I will find the person of my dreams. The person who showers me with affection without being asked to. The person who will ultimately be everything you weren’t: Enough.
Alright. I’ll be truly honest. The reason I kept you around was because I was scared. It scares me. The whole “us being over” thing. I thought, that just maybe, for the first time in my little insignificant life, that you were the one that all the magazines, all the movies and TV shows talk about. I thought you were my ‘Forever’. And I can’t accept that. Like William Wallace, stood in the middle of the battle field, surrounded by the bodies of fellow fallen warriors. I raise my arm, shout at the top of my aching lungs: “You may never take my freedom!…” but my freedom means nothing if I don’t have you.

 

 

https://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/

Wake Up!

The doctors, they said it,
An illness? You claimed it.
Like a badge of honor, you wear these labels,
Consumed by the reactions, you act unstable.
You’d think no-one else had ever experienced,
The hardships you claim, You’re delirious.
Everyday is different:
You’re angry,
You’re happy,
You’re depressed and snappy,
One minute you’re suicidal,
The next you’re shagging every man,
You’re in such denial.
Am I coming?
Or going?
Do you want me?
I’m tiptoeing.
Wake up,
Your reality is a lie.
Come off social media,
Detoxify.
It’s not hard to just be genuine.
Life’s not great,
But you’re on the road to ruin,
Everything you’ve built the past 4 years.
You know where I am,
I can lend an ear.
But only if you take a sec to remember,
How lost you were that special November…

Rebuild: It Takes Time.

Play me in the background.

Dear Blog,

When I was down, I used to spring back up. I used to put on my imaginary armor, fists clenched and flight. Blow after blow and I would continue, feeding off the adrenaline as tears streamed down my face. I would be hanging, broken and bruised but still asking for more. I never won, I never felt victorious.
Post fight and I would skulk away, shed my protection and be isolated. Alone. And ultimately, confused. I thought I was being strong. I thought I was protecting myself. I must not let anyone hurt me. Not again.
Inside, I was fractured. Things were coming apart, loose connections flailed in the voids. Thoughts and instructions couldn’t complete their journeys. The lights were going out.
So I would panic. And when I panic, I fight. The cycle repeats.

I spend my entire youth like this. subconscious self sabotage. Things continued until all the lights were out, my eyes were glazed over and I was nothing more than a shell, walking the earth with fragments of my soul rattling in my shoes. As my shell trekked the country, it unknowingly passed hundreds of similar beings; Broken.

Heres the thing about being broken, it takes an effort to fix it. Over the years, with the help of pills, councillors, therapists, the pieces in my toes began to slowly rebuild. Brick by brick. At first things were held together with tape. A quick fix. Sometimes I faces challenges and before I could think about my reaction, I would fight. And break. Crumbled. Again the peices began to rebuild. Slightly stronger tape was used. As time went on, the challanges seemed less relevent. I didn’t have the energy to flight. Instead, I would shrug and walk on by. I couldn’t collapse again.
The distance gave the pieces time to fuse together, slowly climbing up my body, giving me back feeling in my hands, in my heart, in my brain. I wasn’t trying to be strong, I was strong. It repaired the connections that were once lost. The idea’s came back and so did the imagination. And when it was time to turn on the lights:

I was ready to face the world as a new person. I have crumbled for the last time.